


intermission

by Wilburhampton_223



Series: letters to Theo [3]
Category: VONNEGUT Kurt - Works
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:12:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6636898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilburhampton_223/pseuds/Wilburhampton_223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things aren't always what they seem..</p>
            </blockquote>





	intermission

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lupulangia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupulangia/gifts), [Kissmoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissmoi/gifts), [celeloriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeloriel/gifts).



There is no address for Theodorus to reply to, and the brown scrawled margnally legible words crowd the small page. Theodore quickly scans the letter, makes his way to his desk. He writes a short notice to his secretary and gives it to the courier before he departs.  
Four days later there is a crowd. The wealthiest gentlemen from the corners of every Parish and the peaks of every fine hilltop gather in Theo's estate. In his galley there is an unexposed frame; a fine mahogany frame grooved in elaborate designs on the corners. Concealing the frame is a delicate silk curtain, and the room vibrates excitedly with anticipation. Theo enters gallantly, thanks his party and takes a seat beside the frame. The auctioneer clears his throat, removes the silk and begins shouting prices and numbers as the guests battle for the piece.  
The auction ends in much of a bidding war except one man finally subsides stating it was too small anyhow. When payment is taken, the auctioneer promises to have a larger rendering at the next event.  
Such a fine, good man is Theo. He supports, with all his riches, his desperately hopeless and insane brother.   
Theo writes a reply with a box of art supplies, sends it to the hospital at Versailles. He has imbursed the employees there generously and endowed them with instructions; find my brother, bring me his art. Mention to him that sadness is sweetness; that melancholia is everlasting. Do speak of the scarceness of indigo, the necessity for repetition, and for the love of God tell him to clean his face. Never admit it was I who sent you; do tell him of the boy in town killed last week for stealing quail and how proud you are of your brother, your brother who docks ships at port. Should he appear distraught or by any means muddled by your conversations, bring him in to triage immediately. Do not give him indigo unless he is in your care; he has been known to sell it for postage or proustite.   
Theo smirks, twists his handkerchief and files the auction receipt in his finance chest. He puts on his overcoat, one which is not much different than the one he sent his brother. It bears a blue sleeve and a red sleeve; and embroidered finely in gold is an anchor across the back. Theo's had to be made eleven centimeters wider, and let out several times. Vincents was taken in, and the tailor left but a part of the anchor because he had grown so thin. Only a hook remained, the left side of said anchor, in intricate and deliberate stitching of the finest strands of silk and gold.

**Author's Note:**

> Soot in my hair, stars in my hands...


End file.
